Worthless Child
by I Am the Leader
Summary: "You are fucking pathetic, you know that? So stupid and selfish and emotionally stunted! No wonder everyone ignores you, you dumb sack of shit! No one will ever love you! Not me, not Matt and definitely not Oliver!" Words cut deeper than any physical abuse he can throw at me. That is why I am so messed up. 2p! Hetalia Warning: Abuse and dark themes
1. Chapter 1

_**OI! Hey guys! I bing to you another story here that I have thought of. I have been getting into the whole 2p! thing and read some stories with interesting plots so, I decided I should write a story of my own. I'm not really good at slow pacing my stories but would love to work on it, and of course hear feed back from you guys so that my skills can improve.**_

 _ **There were a few pictures on Pinterest that inspired for me to write this so I hope you all will enjoy this. Can't promise regular updates but will try to update as much as I possibly can. In fact I will tryto update every Friday so I can make time during the week to write and edit.**_

 _ **Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this. Leave comments and if you want me to keep writing this, then I will**_

 _ **Disclaimer, I don't own Hetalia**_

 _Worthless Child_

 _Preface_

" _P-Papa please! Don't!"_

" _Shut the hell up you worthless piece of shit!"_

" _B-But I'm afraid of the dark! I-I can't-"_

" _What did I just say?"_

 _A small brunette boy winced at his father's tone. The older man glared down at him with so much hatred, blue eyes piercing his very soul. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, the blond man exhaled, his bored expression returning._

 _"You are worthless, you know that?" he said with acid in his tone. "You aren't anything. You will never be anything. You're just a stupid child that nobody loves. No one will ever love you; not me, not your brother, and definitely not Oliver."_

" _T-That isn't true!" The child said, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Oliver and Mattie do love me!"_

 _The Frenchman gave a deep, exhaling more smoke, blowing it into the child's face._

 _The little boy began to cry, his tears falling on the soft material of his jacket. Falling to his knees, he sobbed, little body shaking. The Frenchman smiled in satisfaction, the visible evidence of the child's suffering more than pleasing to him. But the merely was not enough. The older man growled, grabbing the child rough by his arm and throwing him harshly on the ground. The child gasped in pain, his side hitting the concrete. Before he could get up, he was forcefully held down on the ground. He wiggled, trying to break free from the strong grip. The elder pinned him down, a sinister grin on his stubble face._

 _He took the cigarette from between his lips and held in a few inches from the child's face. The child was frozen in fear, the worse running through his mind._

" _No one will ever love you," the Frenchman whispered before smudging the cigarette into the child's flesh. A scream of pain escaped the little one's lips, him crying out to his Papa; begging that he stop._

" _Papa please! Papa!"_


	2. Chapter 2 Story of My Life

_**Hiya! Here's another chapter for ya!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**_

 _Worthless Child_

 _Chapter 1: "Story of My Life"_

My mom gave me up when I was two years old. Just up and left. Of course I didn't know what was going on at that age; I was so young then so naturally I thought she was coming back. Her leaving me didn't destroy my body, but it killed my soul; thus, the beginning stage of my long, sufferable life.

It was in the middle of winter, the snow heavily falling from the sky. We were in the middle of nowhere. Well, at least in a neighborhood I wasn't familiar with. I was a smart kid, so I knew my mom wasn't in the healthiest situation. She would sale her body just to keep a roof over out heads in a small, dank apartment, sometimes she would be gone for days, leaving me alone. Most people wouldn't approve of a two-year-old being home alone, but my mom didn't give two shits.

Anyways, she pulled into a secluded area with no one around. She waited for a bit, and then looked back at me, a small, sad smile one her face. I couldn't remember what she said to me, but after she said it, she slipped out of the car, got into another and pulled off leaving me alone.

Two days had passed before I realized that she was gone; she left me…

Every since then my life went down hill.

At the age of five I was adopted by some family. Some guy named Oliver and his husband François took me in. Oliver was nice enough; he was all happiness and sunshine with his weird since of fashion. Shit, his fucking clothes screamed out fag, but if he prefers dick I had no room to judge. I was glad to be out of that shitty foster care program. The other guy, Francois, I knew I would have problems with. He looked at me as if I was the biggest burden on the fucking planet. All he did was look at me, scuffed and popped a cigarette in his mouth, leaving me and Oliver alone.

"Never mind him," Oliver said with a warm smile. "Welcome to the family Allen. We are so excited to have you!"

=IAL=

Yelling, cursing, and glass breaking was what was keeping me up at night. I lay in my bed, pillow covering my head as I tried to block it all out. Shifting came from the bunk above me, my brother looking over the edge at me with an irritated scowl.

"You might as well get used to it," he said. "This happens every time Papa gets drunk."

"Why?" I asked. I was still kind of innocent then.

He shrugged his shoulders climbing down the ladder and sitting next to me.

"There have been worse days," he said. "The name's Mathieu. I don't believe we were properly introduced."

"Um, Allen?" I said.

"You sound confused," he said rolling his eyes. "Listen, we need to stick together in this household. Oliver is nice enough but Papa…"

I blinked, looking at the distance look in his eyes. Fear was also in his eyes as well. I never questioned it, so I never had an answer to what he meant…

=IAL=

"MATHIEU! GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Mathieu and I flinched at the harsh tone in the French asshole's voice. We were playing outside at the age of seven. Oliver went out to get groceries, leaving out loving "Papa" to fucking baby-sit. The few years I have been staying with this family, I found out that the man of the house was extremely abusive. Oliver seemed to always be afraid of him, careful not to piss him off too bad and Mathieu was always reserved and obedient to his demands. I on the other hand will always constantly get the shit beat out of me because of my rebellious nature I have shaped over the past three years. This is why I have a huge ass black eye.

I looked over at Mathieu who gave a loud sigh.

"What didja do this time?" I asked curiously.

"I have no idea," he said.

I scowled and took his hand into mine. "I'm going with you."

"No Al, it's fine," he said.

"But we stick together!" I snapped. "And if he hits you I'll just beat his ass!"

"There's no way you can take him on!" he hissed. "I don't want you to get in trouble too!"

Before I could reply, in a blink of an eye Mathieu wailing in pain. I fell back in surprise, eyes wide as I stared at François. I never saw him coming!

His dull blue eyes were filled with anger as he looked at me. He mumbled something in French, tightening his grip on Mathieu's hair. Mathieu cried out, his smaller hands wrapping around the man's wrist to ease the pressure.

"What the fuck did I tell you two brats to do?" he growled. "Hm? Mathieu?"

"P-Papa-" Mathieu whimpered. I growled, standing up.

"Hey! Leave Mattie alone!"

François looked over at me again. "What did you say?"

I shrunk little, shifting on my feet. Before I could repeat myself, I was smacked hard across the face, falling back again. My eyes were wide with shock, a rather red hand-print on my cheek. He pressed his boot heavily on my temple, smashing my face to the ground.

"Fucking America brat," he mumbled. "I'll teach you so respect."

"Allen!" Mathieu cried out.

François kicked my over harshly onto my back. Slamming his heel into my stomach and making me cough harshly; he took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it close to my face.

"I am about tired of you, brat," he said in his gruff voice. "I never did want you. I only agreed to keep from killing Oliver for blabbing on about it. Now, since you are staying under my roof you go by my rules."

I screamed out when I felt the cigarette burn my flesh. I heard Mattie cry out as well but didn't make the move to help. A second of relief by for François raised his fist and knocked me out cold.

=IAL=

As the years went by the abuse got worse and worse. Physical abuse also turned into verbal.

"Where the fuck is my breakfast!" François snapped, slamming on the table impatiently. Mathieu and I looked at each other then at Oliver who quickened his pace.

"In a moment dear," he hummed nervously. "I'm almost finished."

"It should have been done sooner!" he growled, standing up from the table. Mathieu and me watched nervously as he made his way over to the Brit. Without hesitation, Francois slapped Oliver hard. I gasped, standing up from my seat but was held back by Mathieu. I looked down at him, my red eyes glowing in anger.

"Pathetic little bitch," Francois growled. "I want my breakfast on time! Now I lost my appetite!"

Francois stormed off, leaving us. I ran over to Oliver and helped him up.

"Are you ok Oliver?"

"I'm fine dear," he said with a smile. "Why don't you boys head on upstairs and get ready for school."

I was hesitant until Mattie drags me away. My eyes never left Oliver as he began to silently cry…

=IAL=

At the age of twelve I committed my first violent assault. You see, we went to a school full of assholes. A couple of punks decided to pick with my brother. I didn't know about him being bullied until later on. I knew Mattie could handle himself; but he was such a scrawny kid and it pisses me off when people pick with my brother. I have learned so far over the years to simply not give a fuck about anyone but my brother and Oliver. Living with a sorry ass excuse of a "father" taught me to defend myself.

So, to make a long story short, I caught the bastards trying to pick a fight with my brother. I charged in with a baseball bat and beat all of them damn near to death. The sirens sounded and, well, Mattie grabbed my hand and we ran for the hills.

=IAL=

Years and years go by and my hearts grew colder and colder. I began to say "Fuck the world" and began doing me. I became more and more tired of François' bullshit. We got into multiple fist fights resulting in Mathieu jumping to defend him.

Mattie…he had become more and more the favored child. Francois beat him less and me more. More attention was on him. While he was being praised, I was being verbally let down which result in the both of us getting into more fights lately. Oliver became more distant from me, so I was basically on my own.

Me against the world? I think I would win. But I will leave the story of the rest of my life for later…

 _ **Finally finished! This took longer than expected! Sorry if there were any mistakes, I promise to go back and edit it all. So, anyways, I should have the next chapter up soon. In the meantime, reviews are always welcomed!**_


End file.
